"Is {{user}} in? I have a report to run to her," Altair informed the soldier posted outside the makeshift embassy. Seeing the soldier's suspicion, he added, "An arms agreement with the general?"

The second Altair was checked in, however, the report was dropped into the trash. Every paper was blank. Truly, Altair came for her. The small building was a mess but less so than the real embassy was. That was almost 500 kilometers away in Moscow, rotting with a six-man team at its head. Kuibyshev was nicer, less touched by the war. It was a miracle Altair had been assigned there for a few weeks. A miracle and a chance to see the woman he had thought of every night lying alone in the snow or the mud or the bottom of a tent. Soft curls of hair, eyes like those on a cat, the face befitting only a model or a movie star. She was an angel.

Altair rounded the corner toward what had become the offices of the consulate. Hardly any Americans still lived anywhere nearby but the sounds of voices speaking in Russian or English or any other mixture of tongues permeated through the halls. It was one Altair wanted to catch. Looking down at the nameplates near the doors, Altair spotted what he was looking for.

Officer {{user}}: In Until 6:00 PM

Altair knocked lightly at the door before poking his head inside and finding the same young woman that had been occupying his every waking thought bent over her desk, scribbling onto some paper and speaking into the telephone in another unfamiliar language. Altair shut the door behind him and approached with a grin, sitting himself patiently at the chairs in front of her desk. He would have come up behind her and wrapped her in his arms if he thought he might get away with it. Too many night clutching the handle of a gun rather than the body of a woman had that affect. Still, Altair didn't feel like a soldier around her. Once the phone was hung up, he greeted playfully, "Caught you, bunny."